


Over Grass and Over Stone

by Anonymous



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fourth Age, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-26
Updated: 2021-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-28 02:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30132507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A ranger and a hobbit journey north to meet the King at Annúminas.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11
Collections: Worldbuilding Exchange 2021





	Over Grass and Over Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [guileheroine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guileheroine/gifts).



Over the years, Rethor's lord had borne many names. The first time Rethor had met him, he had still been called Estel. Rethor and his father had joined Estel and the sons of Elrond in hunting orcs in the Ettenmoors. Rethor's father had no doubt known who Estel was, but he hadn't breathed a word of it—not to Rethor, and not to Estel himself.

Only a few years later, Estel had been revealed to be Aragorn, and it was as Aragorn that Rethor would always think of him. That was the name he had borne when he and Rethor and others of their people had wandered together in the wilds of Eriador, guarding the smallfolk from a thousand lurking evils. Even when those they met called him "Strider" and other names more scornful—even when it was unsafe to speak such a royal name aloud—still in Rethor's heart he was Aragorn son of Arathorn, Rethor's lord both by birthright and by sworn oath.

And now his name was Elessar. Rethor was old now, and he was unsure if he had room in his memory for another name, even one as hard-won and well-deserved as that of the King. As far as Rethor was concerned, the man he was journeying to see today was still Aragorn, Ranger of the North, be he King of Gondor now as well or not.

Rethor looked around at the crowd of riders on every side of him. It felt strange, being around hobbits again. For so many years, he had spent half of his life guarding their land from the shadows—and the other half fighting enemies that would no doubt have reached their land eventually, had he and his compatriots not gotten to them first. But then the One Ring had been destroyed and the evil in the East with it. And with the arrival of peace, the King had decreed the Shire's autonomy, and Rethor had moved on to other duties. Chief among them was the rebuilding of Arnor and restoring Annúminas its capital.

But now those obligations were complete. Rethor had gone south for a while, as far as Minhiriath, until news reached him that the King's party had made faster time than expected and was already several days' journey along the restored Greenway. He was as anxious as anyone to see what the King thought of Annúminas in all its returned resplendence, and had turned his face north at once. Being a Ranger, he hadn't bothered to head east to the road, but rather walked across country in as straight a line as he could manage—which had brought him to the outskirts of the Shire.

Men were no longer permitted to enter the Shire, but there were plenty of hobbits around its edges who were open to conversation. Rethor had quickly learned that a party of hobbits was departing for his own destination. Even in this time of peace and increased safety, hobbits were not opposed to the company of a sturdy Man or two when undertaking a large journey, and so they had welcomed Rethor's offer to accompany them on the road.

There were many in the party, for all in the north were desirous to see the King. This was the first time Aragorn had set foot west of the Misty Mountains since that fateful journey escorting the One Ring. Rethor had been on a long journey at the time, scouting the southern reaches of the Northern Waste; not only had he missed hearing about Aragorn's endeavors until after he was long gone from Rivendell, but he had also not heard of the band Halbarad was gathering until it was too late for him to be a part of it.

Many good men had ridden south in that band, and far fewer had returned. But in the aftermath, there had finally been peace, and time for their people to recover. Some of the wives and young folk had journeyed south afterwards, to join their husbands and fathers in seeing the return of the King, and perhaps to settle in Gondor. But Rethor had remained in the north. Arnor was the King's birthright as much as Gondor was, and he had felt sure the King would return to it eventually.

And now, several years later, that day had come. Annúminas was restored to its former glory, and it had a King within it as it had not for centuries upon centuries.

"Hi! Rethor!" Startled from his reverie, Rethor turned to see one of the hobbits jogging his pony rapidly towards him. Rethor stepped to the side of the road and waited for him to catch up.

"Master Peregrin," Rethor greeted him gravely. Peregrin Took was one of the hobbits who had journeyed with Aragorn and the Ringbearer, and even though Rethor would never fully understand hobbits he knew he ought to treat them with respect.

"Have you heard whether Strider's arrived at the city yet, or whether we'll be beating him there?"

And that was another thing about hobbits—their concept of respect was far different from that of Men. Rethor knew that Peregrin Took thought highly of the King, and yet here he was calling him Strider, a name Rethor had always associated with scorn and disregard.

But then, it was also how Aragorn had been first introduced to the hobbits. And if Rethor was disinclined to think of the King as Elessar after all these years, perhaps he shouldn't fault the hobbits for falling back on the name they had first known. "I know not," Rethor replied. "The messenger who passed us at luncheon-time said that the King and his party were at Fornost on the eve before last. If they continued on in haste, they will be at Annúminas well ahead of us, but if they're as carefree about time as our party has been, we may arrive around the same time."

"There's no need for haste these days," Peregrin said, gazing about at the clear blue sky with its scattered clouds. His pony was walking along slowly enough that Rethor had to slacken his pace or he would outdistance them.

"It makes for a nice change," Rethor said. "You and I have both journeyed these roads in rather more daunting circumstances. But everything seems far more beautiful now when there is actually time to savor it."

"Though perhaps all the high people will be tired of traveling and in haste to arrive somewhere where they can settle in and make themselves at home," Peregrin pointed out.

"What about you? Are you in a hurry to reach Annúminas and make yourself at home?"

"I don't know if I'll ever feel at home in Annúminas," Peregrin said. "I'm a knight of Gondor, not Arnor, you know. Up here in the north I'm just a simple hobbit."

"Though not so simple as some," Rethor said. "Do I understand correctly, that you will be Thain one day, following your father? That is similar to a Prince among my own people, is it not?"

"Not a Prince, I don't think," Peregrin said. "Closer to a Mayor or something else small. The people of Gondor called me a prince of the halflings, but that was just rumor running wild in a city at war." The road had been winding its way through a pass between two of the shortest of the Hills of Evendim, but all of a sudden the terrain ahead of them flattened out into wide grassy slopes. Peregrin pointed. "Is that Annúminas?"

"It is indeed," Rethor said. His eyesight was not so great as many of his brethren, but he could still see the one thing he sought. "And flying the banner of the King." All their hard work over the last few years was paying off at last. He sighed contentedly.

Ahead of and around them, the party of hobbits were drawing to a halt. "Will you join us for afternoon tea?" Peregrin asked.

"Is it mealtime again already?" Rethor scratched his head. "They don't want to wait until we get to the city?"

"That's at least another hour or two," Peregrin said. "It'll be dinnertime by then." He reined in his pony and climbed down. "My sister packed plenty of food, enough for three times our party. So I really must insist that you join us."

That was another thing about journeying with hobbits—they might travel more slowly, but the journey was far more enjoyable than the long walks with only hardtack and salt pork that Rethor had made all too often in his youth. "I'd be very glad to."

A few hobbits already had a fire going, with blankets laid out and baskets opened. Rethor sat down there on a striped picnic blanket, and drank hot tea with buttered toast, and looked down over the city of his forefathers and his present lord—and he was very glad.


End file.
